They arrived at the cow-house without any adventure, let loose Sancho, who had been tied up, as it was decided that the dog should remain at home with the others, and proceeded to milk the cows. Having finished that task and supplied them with fodder, Mary Percival observed, as they were retracing their steps, "I must say that it would not only be more convenient, but more agreeable if the cows were kept nearer to the house." "It would be, certainly," replied Alfred. "It is a pity that there is not a cow-shed within the palisades; but we have no means of making one at present. Next year, when my father has purchased his horses and his sheep, which he talks of doing, we are to build a regular yard and sheds for all the animals close to the house, and palisaded round as the house now is, with a passage from one palisade to the other. Then it will be very convenient; but `Rome was not built in one day,' and we must, therefore, wait another winter." "And be devoured by the wolves in the meantime," replied Emma, laughing. "Why, you are getting over your fright already, Emma." "Yes; I feel bold, now there is nothing to be afraid of." The remainder of the week was passed away in practising upon the snow-shoes by the males of the party, the women scarcely ever venturing out of doors, as the cold was very severe. Mary and Emma were accompanied by Alfred for the first three or four days; and after that, notwithstanding that the howling of the wolves was heard every night, they took courage when they found that the animals never made their appearance by daylight, and went as before to milk the cows by themselves. On the Saturday, they were in the hopes of seeing old Malachi Bone, but he did not make his appearance, and John, who could now get on very well in his snow-shoes, became very impatient. Alfred and Martin were also very anxious to see the old man, that they might ascertain if he had made any discoveries relative to the Indians. Sunday, as usual, was a day of rest from labour; the services were read by Mr Campbell, and the evening passed in serious conversation. Mr Campbell, although usually in good spirits, was certainly not so on that evening. Whether it was that the severity of the winter which had set in and the known long duration of it which they had to encounter had an effect upon his spirits, he was melancholy as well as serious. He more than once referred to their former residence when in England, which was a very unusual thing for him to do, and by degrees the conversation was turned in that direction, and, although no one said so, they all felt what a change there was in their present position from that which they had been forced to leave. Mrs Campbell, who perceived that a gloom was gathering over the whole party, made several remarks tending to reconcile them to their present lot, and, after a time Mr Campbell observed, "Perhaps, my dear children, it may be a divine mercy which has sent you here to this